


Falling Seeds

by MerryArwen (lalaietha)



Series: Clever Woman, Doctor's Wife [11]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 06:03:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalaietha/pseuds/MerryArwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mary Morstan thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Seeds

It did not actually take much more than common sense to sort out why Sherlock Holmes might have kept his continued vitality a secret. Mary had spent far too much time deconstructing Moriarty's empire on the home front, as it were, to be anything but appalled at the length and breadth of the man's reach, and between false names and deliberately cryptic records she did not begin to imagine that Scotland Yard could have caught _everyone_ associated. 

For Sherlock Holmes, it would be a great deal easier to weed out the ones he saw as an actual threat either to himself or (and Mary would credit him the motivation, easily) to John and Mary if the world thought he was dead. Of course there were ways around that, but not for the great Sherlock Holmes, who so liked to be in control. 

She'd worked that much out while finding him clothing to replace that ridiculous outfit he'd been using to hide in her furniture. As such, she only half-listened to the rather roundabout and lengthy tale her husband's closest friend made of the thing, and spent that time keeping a surreptitious watch on her husband himself. 

The way in which part of him seemed to be warily coming back to life - not certain it believed the evidence of its own eyes - gave her a certain amount of food for thought. 

Mary knew more about her husband than many wives knew about theirs, and probably more than he realized himself. She declined to speak of her first fiancé in the same way that John mostly declined to speak of Afghanistan, both of them aware that these were scars the other could not do much for, and with which the other had made their peace, and so they left it alone. 

But besides being the first man ever dear to her heart, Rupert had been . . . an education. Between him and her studies and the kindly but brutal honesty of her aunt, there was surprisingly little about love or lust that Mary couldn't guess at. 

That John and Sherlock Holmes had been a particular _kind_ of friend, Mary had always been well aware. It hadn't particularly concerned her, being that John had been the one to court _her_ , and if Holmes' jealous attention had been annoying she'd also been relatively sure it would fade. 

And to be fair, it had. Well, the jealousy perhaps not, but the poor behaviour, mostly. 

But in the presence of the man no longer thought dead, something in Mary's husband was filling like the slow flow of sweet water into parched ground, and that made her think.


End file.
